Death in All Honesty
by Faore
Summary: Death, in all honesty. A cynical, yet honest outlook on death. The narrator examines his own life, as well as his fears, aspirations, and experiences. A drama written with humorous notes.


A/N: I finally got the chance to write again. It feels good to just sit down and type away, not concerning myself with "MLA Style" and such. This story was a real departure for me. Not just because it's written from a first person perspective, but because it's cynical and humorous at the same time. I had the opportunity to write my thoughts through another character on a rather serious subject- death. I suppose it's a heavy topic, but I wrote about it in a light style.

I didn't go overboard with editing- I wanted a rather natural tone to it. I wrote all the ideas without hesitation, so you could say it's a natural thought pattern. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the series, but I do own this story.

Death in All Honesty

I'd always thought of death as a nuisance- a fruit fly, eternally beating its wings, the buzz of its motions resonating in my ear. It's not that I don't think I can die; every mortal must eventually succumb to his or her ultimate weakness, regardless of whether or not he or she makes countless, and futile efforts, might I add, to avoid it.

I guess death confused me from the start. I mean, hell, I was always doing dangerous things, or so people told me. But sometimes, just slamming my foot on the gas pedal, feeling truly elated by the rise of the speedometer, was the only way I could truly feel alive- when I was mere seconds away from colliding with the blackness that threatened to consume me. I only felt alive when I feel dead- those few, precious seconds when my heart beat so fast, I swear it stopped altogether.

I'd always tell people I wasn't scared to die. Not boasting, just confessing. The only thing that really scared me about death was the way I would die. The manner in which death occurs was an important factor to me. Dying in my sleep- I think that was my worst fear. God, what a stupid way to leave this world. No pain, no suffering, no one to see you go. You just fall asleep, and that's the end of it all. After all that work, and you get an easy way out.

I guess I always liked doing everything the hard way. There's got to be pain- there's got to be that Hollywood death scene speech, where you spit out all of your regrets and all of your warm and fuzzy feelings for those special individuals, just in case they need a reminder that this is it- the end- between gasps for air and bouts of coughing fits that inevitably result in gallons of blood being spit up. Then you die and the credits roll. People clap and grab their belongings, exiting the theatre. The world continues to turn.

Dying in a cool, dramatic way would be kind of fun, but enjoyable only if one possessed a cynical outlook on life itself. People would cry and scream 'it's not fair', but ironically, they knew eventually the relationship would come to an end. One of you was destined to die before the other- to die someday, leaving the other individual behind, and thus, the relationship is ended. Two minus one equals one. Simple math, you can't argue with that, now can you? Of course it's fair; you knew this day would come. Why cry now? You're going to die someday too.

But hey, did you ever notice that a person doesn't like it when you remind him or her that he or she is going to die? Would he or she actually believe you if you claimed that he or she is going to live forever? Or, would it be more comforting to reveal the time, place, and circumstances of his or her death?

Maybe you could claim that a special individual is a chosen member of an elite group that is biologically engineered to avoid death. That may not go over well. You're basically accusing someone of being inhuman, and people don't like that. I speak from experience.

All this talk about death amuses me. I'd actually try and make the effort to smile now if I wasn't lying on the ground, sandwiched between soil soaked with my own blood and a stone pillar, which, by the way, is currently crushing my ribcage, preventing me from moving as I lay here, dying.

I guess this isn't how I imagined I'd die, but hell, it's not too shabby.

A/N: Well? Eh, eh? Please remember to review my story. I know it's a bit of a cliffhanger, but that's how I like to operate. I hope you noticed that the narrator of the story isn't identifiable. I did that for a reason. Stay tuned for the next chapter, which, by the way, will hopefully be up soon.


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